


Cheating

by Cinaed



Series: Pure Exhilaration [3]
Category: CSI: Las Vegas
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-10
Updated: 2006-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Sanders doesn't cheat. Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheating

Greg doesn’t cheat. He can honestly say that he never looked at another kid’s paper during a test, from kindergarten all the way through college. Of course, that’s probably because he’d been the kid with the highest scores in the class…. Still, he _never_ cheated during any of his chess matches, even during the championship. Then again, that was probably because he was the best of the best, the team captain and the state champion all four years of high school. 

All right, so the fact of the matter is that Greg doesn’t cheat on sure things. After all, why waste your effort cheating when your victory is assured? 

And the bet on Nick and Bobby was supposed to be a sure thing, damnit. After all, the men had been eyeing each other for _years_. You’d have to be blind not to notice the way the two stared at each other whenever they thought the other wasn’t looking. 

Greg had figured they’d have to crack soon. All that sexual tension was bound to explode into hot, repressed Southern boy sex, and Greg had figured it would be within three months. 

It should have been easy money. Nick and Bobby should’ve been dating and shooting each other secretive smiles and using code words to exchange details about clandestine meetings in the supply closet. But were they having clandestine meetings in the supply closet? No. Instead they were doing the same freakin’ dance they’ve always done, with no end in sight, and now Greg has only a month left before his chance at winning money from almost every CSI and technician in the crime lab becomes history. 

This called for drastic action. And cheating. Lots and lots of cheating. Which was a problem, because although Greg did cheat from time to time when his victory looked shaky, he always recruited someone to help him cheat. Why was this a problem? Probably because pretty much everyone else had his or her money in the betting pool. 

Well, everyone except the two Southern boys in question (that was a major no-no), Grissom (Greg would commit _seppuku_ before asking him), Doc Robbins (the man wouldn’t help him and in fact would probably tell Judy about his attempt to cheat), and…Hodges (sometimes Greg thinks God has a sick sense of humor). All in all, it is a sad, pathetic list.

Still, Hodges it is. Greg just really hopes that Hodges will weigh his amusement of Greg getting screwed and the rest of the crime lab getting screwed and decide in Greg’s favor. 

*

"No," Hodges says flatly, and Greg sighs. 

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No." 

"Pretty, pretty, pretty please?" 

"_No_, Sanders. Now get your ass out of my lab." 

"What if I split the winnings with you?" 

Hodges rolls his eyes. "Ah, but you see, if I help you and then Nick and/or Bobby find out, I won’t live to enjoy said-winnings, so, again, my answer of no." 

"C’mon," Greg whines. "Don’t you think reality is off-kilter over the fact that you’re getting laid on a regular basis and those two aren’t? If we don’t do something, reality will collapse in on itself." He pauses. "Actually, it’s even weirder to consider that _you’re_ getting laid and _I’m_ not. Damn." 

The trace technician smirks a little at that and turns away, peering into his microscope and apparently ignoring Greg for a moment. After a pause though, he mutters, "If you promise to be silent for an entire month, except to discuss cases, I will think about it." Even as a grin curves Greg’s lips, the other man stresses, "_Think_ about it." 

"That’s all I ask." Greg hops off the counter and offers Hodges a cheery salute before he bounds out of the trace lab. Now all he has to do is wait for Hodges to knuckle under, and then they can begin their attempt to trick Nick and Bobby into falling into each other’s arms. 

*

Greg really should have expected this. After all, it was _Hodges_, master of snark and king of vicious insults. Of course he’d know how to be crafty and brilliantly evil. 

Greg pastes on his normal, cheerful grin and saunters into the break room, where Nick is eating an apple. He’s never quite gotten Nick’s apple obsession and intense hatred of peanut butter, but hey, Nick being in the break room works for the first phase of their plan. 

"Nicky," he says with a grin and flops into the chair next to the Texan. "_Another_ Granny Smith? If you’re going to eat apples all day, at least have some variety and try a Gala once in a while." 

Nick just shakes his head and grins. "I’m a Granny Smith sorta guy, G." 

"Weirdo. Oh, the striations are a match, by the way. Got the confirmation from Bobby before I went on break." Greg pauses, and then says in a deliberately casual voice, "Speaking of Bobby, I gotta admit, I was surprised about the two of you."

The Texan’s expression is one of absolute confusion (and a little bit of alarm, if Greg has correctly named that flicker in his eyes). "The two of us? What _about_ the two of us?" 

Greg grins and winks at him. "Just seems like the betting pool’s heating up. Apparently you and Bobby are supposed to fall into each other’s arms soon." 

The flicker of alarm dies at that, and Nick rolls his eyes. "Those betting pools are so lame, man. I mean, there’s still a betting pool that ‘Rick will divorce Tina and marry Cath." 

"Hey, stranger things have happened." 

"Like what?" Nick asks, skeptical. 

Hodges had told him repeatedly to be casual, as though he was announcing the weather, and so Greg’s tone is breezy when he says, "Like Hodges setting Bobby up on a blind date on April Fool’s and the guy being a trannie." 

Nick chokes on his Granny Smith, and it takes several minutes of pounding on Nick’s back for the Texan to regain his oxygen. 

Phase one complete. Excellent. 

*

It’s the next night that Hodges sends him into the ballistics lab with a few carefully memorized lines that he is supposed to somehow insert into the conversation. Greg just hopes he can manage to be subtle, because otherwise phase two will crash and burn. 

"Hiya, Bobby."

The Georgian looks up from cleaning a pistol of some sort, and grins. "Hey, Greg. Got somethin’ for me?"

"Of course. I aim to entertain with my dazzling wit and charm, but if that is somehow not enough, I can also supply you with something to play with yourself." He hands over the evidence and leans against the doorframe as Bobby studies the bullet carefully. 

Bobby looks up and blinks when he realizes Greg hasn’t left. Eyeing him and obviously wondering what he’s up to, the firearm tech ventures, "Slow night." 

"Very slow night," Greg agrees cheerfully. "I think Nick’s gotten sick of me complaining how boring tonight’s been. He retreated to the break room for a Granny Smith. It’s apparently as good as an aspirin." 

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away," Bobby says with a lopsided grin, and Greg’s smile widens in return. 

"Course," the CSI says after a moment, "I’m not sure how much peace and quiet Nick’s going to get. I saw Wendy heading over there." 

A puzzled expression forms on Bobby’s face. "Wendy’s not a chatterbox."

"No, but she’s got a major crush on Nick." When Bobby just stares at him, he stares back, and assumes a surprised look. "You didn’t know? Ever since the Chase case when she got to cut that shirt off him, she’s been eyeing him like he’s a juicy piece of steak. Probably wishes some of the blood had gotten onto his pants too." 

Bobby’s looking a bit…well, pissy is the first word to come to mind, but this is Bobby Dawson, so instead he’s looking a bit…perturbed. Probably thinking no one else should get to ogle his man. "Too much information, Greg."

Greg blinks. "Hey, I can’t blame her. I mean, Nick’s the crime lab’s Johnny Depp, I swear. You know, the guy where all the other guys think ‘Okay, I’m straight, but if I weren’t, I’d so screw him,’ and I--"

"Too much information," Bobby all but growls, and now he’s definitely looking pissed…and Hodges is probably sitting in his lab snickering, because he knew full well Greg would incur the wrath of the firearm technician in the _ballistics_ lab of all places. 

"…Got it. Shutting up now," Greg says, and makes up a hasty excuse to slink out the door and out of the range of Bobby’s guns. There. Phase two was complete, and with no casualties, much to Hodges’ obvious disappointment. 

*

The final phase of the plan is simple enough, and not at all subtle. Hodges and Greg were both going to invite their best friends to see a movie (which ‘coincidentally’ was the exact same movie), and then never show up at the theater. Nick and Bobby would end up seeing each other and going to the movie together since they would have already bought their tickets, and it would become their first unofficial date which would lead to many official dates. And hot, repressed Southern boy sex, of course. Maybe Greg should get a patent for that term. He would have to ponder that later. 

Yes, the final phase was brilliant but not at all subtle, so Greg isn’t at all surprised when the night after the movie he sees a very unamused Nick Stokes heading his way. 

"Real nice, G. You practically _beg_ me to go see some new movie and then you ditch me? And don’t even try to pretend you lost your phone or got a flat tire, because that cell is more important to you than your future first-born, and I checked your tires on the way in and they haven’t been replaced recently." 

Hodges had given Greg an excuse. A really amusing one too, involving a stripper and a bit too many martinis, but one look at Nick’s face and Greg knows the Texan wouldn’t be amused at the joke. He racks his brain frantically for an answer but all that comes out is a sheepish, "Uh…I fell asleep?"

Nick rolls his eyes. "And I suppose Hodges fell asleep too?" 

"Hodges?" Greg repeats, and widens his eyes. "Wait, was Hodges supposed to be there too? Man, now I’m really glad I fell asleep. Having Hodges there would have totally ruined the movie." 

The other man’s eyes are beginning to narrow, which is never a good sign, because Nick is pretty damn creepy when he loses his temper. "Hodges badgered Bobby into going to the same movie at the same showing and then also ditched him. Funny coincidence, huh?" 

Greg nods, and tries to covertly lean away from Nick, in case the Texan really loses his cool. Had something gone wrong with their plan, because one would think Nick would be less pissed and more ‘Dude, I got laid, this is _awesome_.’ Course, maybe Bobby didn’t put out on first dates. Or maybe Nick didn’t. Damn repressed Southerners. Had all hints of the Sexual Revolution been taken out of their history books in school? …Wait. Probably. 

"Yeah, that’s crazy," he says, still trying to lean as far away from Nick as possible. "I didn’t even know Hodges _went_ to movies. He actually has a social life?" 

Nick’s eyes are narrowed to slits as he growls, "Cut the crap, Greg. I don’t know how you tricked Hodges into helping you, but you’re not winning that bet. What have you got, three more weeks?" 

Crap. Double crap. Triple crap. Overall, _crap_. "…Uh, my bad. And three weeks and two days, actually." He puts on his best ‘I’m the insane but adorable Greg Sanders, yelling at me would be like smacking a puppy for making a mess on the carpet, so no yelling or smacking’ expression. "Sorry." 

Nick just shakes his head, and no longer looks angry, just exasperated. "Don’t mess with people’s lives like that, G. It could end up almost ruining a good friendship." 

Greg’s voice is meek as he mumbles, "Okay," but inwardly, he’s as confused as hell. Wait, had Nick and Bobby talked it out and decided to be _friends_? What. The. Hell? 

How could _friends_ give each other sideways glances like that? How could _friends_ exchange heated looks in the hallway? How could _friends_\-- Wait a second. Something isn’t quite right here. Nick is shaking his head and saying something about being glad Greg’s learned his lesson, and it’s only as the Texan turns and walks away that Greg realizes what’s amiss as he catches sight of something that looks like a hickey on his neck. 

Scratch that. Not ‘something that looks like a hickey’ -- it’s a damn _hickey_ on Nick’s neck. Ruined a good friendship, his ass. There _had_ been hot, repressed Southern boy sex. Or at least a hot, repressed Southern boy make-out session. 

Greg stares after him, jaw touching the floor. He’s won the bet. He had to tell Hodges about this, he…. Then he remembers Nick’s pointed, ‘What have you got, three more weeks?’ and earns several odd glances as he curses loudly. Why did he get the feeling that Nick and Bobby are going to wait for three weeks and three days before they announce they’re in a relationship? Oh, maybe because it wasn’t a feeling, but the sinking realization of _doom_. 

"Lesson freakin’ learned, Nicky," he mutters, and is positive that in a certain lab a certain trace tech is snickering at his misfortune. 

 


End file.
